I stop, wondering if I should continue. I look back to the stairs. When I reach the bedside, I can tell it’s a person. It’s Hilbert. When did I last see him? When did we last speak? My heart is racing, pumping at the sight of him.

There are several glowing lamps around him, humidifiers, I think, and a fan.

He looks in bad shape.

“Hilbert? Are you okay?”

He moans. “It’s cold,” he says. His voice is fragile.

It’s hard to see clearly in the shadows. I pull the covers up around him, trying to warm him. It looks like the fungus has spread over more of his body. His face and hands appear covered. His poor hands and fingers look crooked, deformed.

“Oh no, no, what happened? It’s me—Penny. I’ve been looking for you everywhere. This can’t be. What’s happened to you?”

I need some light, I need to see him better, clearer. “What did she do to you?” I ask.

He’s trying to tell me something, but he keeps stopping before any words come out. I sit down on the side of the bed. He puts his hand on mine. Its weight is comforting but also awkward. It’s not the hand that I know.

“I’m scared…. I’m going to help you…. I promise.”

“There’s still more work to do,” he says. “She wants us to keep working. We should be working. But I’m tired.”

“No,” I say. “You don’t have to now. Not anymore.”

“A lie is never truly scary,” he says. “Because it’s a lie.”

“What’s the lie this time?”

“This lie is one about life, that we need more of it, that we need to be more productive, produce more, that it has to be longer, that death is the enemy. It’s not true. Infinity is a breathtaking mystery, or so I used to believe. Now I know it’s not. Infinity is stagnant. It doesn’t expand. It can’t. It’s just immeasurable. It’s not a mystery, it’s simply endless.”

I smooth a stray piece of hair from his forehead.

“What can we do?”

“We’re here. We have no choice now,” he says.

I rub the back of his hand with my free one, then I lean in and kiss it. When I straighten, I hear movement above us, perhaps footsteps.

“Shelley wants what everyone wants,” he replies. “What does everyone always say they want? What does everyone think they want? More. But it’s not hard to see that more time would eventually become—”

“The worst thing,” I say, finishing his thought. “Hell.”

“Hell,” he repeats.

That’s when I realize what I have to do. Right now. Finally. I know. It’s clear.

“I’m going to help you,” I say. “I’m going to help all of us.”

I hug him. As hard as I can.

“I wish I’d known you sooner,” he says, “for longer.”

“We know each other right now.”

“You’re here with me right now.”

“Yes, and that’s enough.”

“We have helped each other,” he says.